


lead me not into temptation

by pizza_my_heart



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is soft in more ways than one, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Blowjobs, Communication, Crowley has a bob bc honestly im obsessed with that wavy bob, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, It's kind of shame kink maybe but not really?, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pre-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Shame, Weight Gain, belly stuffing, i hope i tagged this okay, i know i put the book as one of the fandoms but it's more based on the TV show, ive never posted anything before and i dont know what im doing, like aziraphale is ashamed about his wg but not during the sex, porn but theres also lots of FEELINGS, since i hadnt read the book yet at all when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-12 04:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizza_my_heart/pseuds/pizza_my_heart
Summary: Angels are supposed to be able to resist temptation, aren't they?But Aziraphale always was fond of food. And Crowley.





	lead me not into temptation

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom and also i couldnt rewatch anything for reference while i was writing it so hopefully I didn't get anything too wrong lol
> 
> Takes place in the 11 years between when they find out about armageddon and when they stop it  

> 
> ALSO THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IVE EVER ACTUALLY POSTED SOMETHING IVE WRITTEN so lowkey im heckin proud of myself for not clinging to it forever and trying to make it perfect
> 
> ALSO FYI THIS KINK HAS LIKE SEXUALIZED OVEREATING AND WEIGHT GAIN SO IF THAT DOESNT SOUND LIKE SOMETHING YOU WANT TO READ, THEN PLEASE DONT READ IT
> 
> Ok disclaimer over LETS DO THIS

Crowley had stopped 'round at Aziraphale's to invite him out. "So there's this new bakery, and I was thinking you and I should go have a look. How's about it?"

"Crowley, I really shouldn't. I've just gotten a new shipment of books in that desperately need sorting."

"Eh, you're probably right," said Crowley nonchalantly, checking his fingernails for nonexistent dirt. "I mean, their baker _ is _ from Paris, but surely his macarons can't be _ that _ good."

Aziraphale stopped. Ha. That had got his attention. "Authentic Parisian macarons?" It had been so long since he'd had a proper macaron.

"Yup. Orange blossom and chocolate, strawberry, peppermint. Any kind you can think of. And cute little eclairs. And pain au chocolat_,_" said Crowley idly. "Made fresh every day." He stood. "Oh well, I guess I should be going now. You've books to sort." He turned to leave and…

"Wait!"

Crowley turned back around, smirking. "Yes?"

"I suppose I _ could _sort those books later."

***

"Crowley, these macarons are fantastic."

"Pfft. Told you. I don't know why you don't take me at my word."

"You're a demon! And besides, I did, this time."

Crowley wouldn't have said it out loud, but Aziraphale was kind of cute when he was eating. Aziraphale took another bite, his whole face lit up with joy. He hummed in pleasure. (The little noises Aziraphale made when he ate were also a major bonus as far as Crowley was concerned.)

After that, Crowley started intentionally hunting down gastronomic experiences that would entice Aziraphale. He wanted to see the angel, of course, and this was a good way to get Aziraphale to spend time with him.

But Crowley discovered that, more and more, he also wanted to see Aziraphale _ eat. _He found this development unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. A bit strange, perhaps, but he preferred to spend his time fulfilling his desires, not interrogating them.

And fulfilled it he did. He and Aziraphale would go to some cute little cafe, Aziraphale would order something delightful (occasionally a couple somethings), and Crowley would sit there and make conversation. And watch. _ Such pretty lips this angel had… _ Aziraphale would usually offer him a bite of whatever he was having, but Crowley would refuse. He wasn't there to eat.

It got to the point where they were going out for lunch almost every day. That is, until…

"Oh dear." Aziraphel was struggling to do up his trousers. His shirt buttons also strained, but had done up without much trouble. He flushed. Surely he hadn't been indulging _ that _much, had he? Then he thought of the eclairs. And the baklava. And those delightful little chocolate biscuits from the bakery across town that Crowley kept bringing to him. And the--

Well. Perhaps he _ had _been indulging rather frequently.

Frequent or not, the results were undeniable. He had a paunch. He sat down in a nearby armchair with a _whumfp_ and ran his fingers through his hair. Somehow his stomach looked even bigger in this position. His face burned as a wave of shame washed over him. He poked his stomach and his finger squished into it.

He'd never given his body's appearance much thought before-- after all, it was the body God had given him. How could it have been anything but perfect? But now he supposed he'd cocked it up with his self-indulgence. Gone soft. _ What would the higher-ups say? _ He could just miracle it away, but if this didn't count as frivolous then nothing did. He was an angel. This should not have happened. He should have been able to control himself. He should have been able to resist the temptations of the flesh.

_ Speaking of flesh. _ He poked his paunch again. _ Squish. _ Grabbed a whole handful. _ Squish. _ He was bizarrely fascinated with his newly larger belly. His corporeal form didn't age, so he would have been fascinated by _ any _ change in his body. But… there was something else. Despite the shame he felt, there was something deeply appealing about his newly increased softness that he couldn't quite name. He, of course, also felt ashamed about _ that_. Not only had he cocked up the Lord's design with his reckless self-indulgence, he had the gall to _ enjoy _ his altered form?

He sighed. It pained him to think of it, but he had to stop going out to eat with Crowley. He was a bad influence. _ Crowley. _ Had Crowley noticed Aziraphale had been gaining weight? And why did that question fill Aziraphale with dread, embarrassment and excitement in equal measure?

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. He hadn't opened the store yet! In a panic, Aziraphale jumped up, sucked in his stomach, and did up his trousers. Thank the Lord that his waistcoat, at least, was adjustable.

Crowley's knock was answered by an uncharacteristically disheveled Aziraphale. _ Aziraphale_. Was. _ Disheveled_. Bowtie askew, buttons put into the wrong holes on his waistcoat, jacketless. The lot.

"Aziraphale! Thought you'd have opened up the store already! Are you alright?"

"Yes-Crowley-everythings-fine," said Aziraphale all at once in a way that implied the exact opposite. "Just, er," he continued, catching himself and altering his tone. "Woke up late. Alarm didn't ring. You know."

"Oh. Well, alright," said Crowley, in a way that implied he didn't believe Aziraphale one bit. "Listen, I've found this new sushi place. Well. New to me. Real hole in the wall. The sushi is supposed to be " he kissed his fingers in the way that meant "very good."

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not… really in the mood for sushi…"

"Oh, yeah, I guess it is a bit early in the day for fish. That probably puts the kibosh on that chip shop then too, eh?"

Aziraphale gave a strained, close-lipped smile, and nodded.

"Well, how about brunch then?" Crowley leaned in conspiratorially. "I found a little creperie. They just do crepes, nothing else. And reportedly," he raised his eyebrows, "they do them very well. C'mon, it'll be like Paris."

Welllllllllll. One more time wouldn't hurt, surely. A last hurrah. "Okay." Aziraphale smiled. "Like Paris."

Amazingly, it _ was _ like Paris. Well, minus the guillotine. And that ruddy revolution garb. He'd fixed his waistcoat and tie after Crowley had pointed them out to him, and fetched his jacket and they'd gone. The creperie was small and quaint, but (as Aziraphale would find out) served crepes that were beyond good enough for it to deserve to be called a creperie.

Aziraphale was torn. "Should I get the lemon and sugar crepes, the cheese crepes, or the Nutella crepes?" Lemon and sugar were the ones he'd had in Paris, and the symmetry was pleasing to him, but the other two sounded absolutely delectable.

"Why not get all three?" Crowley's tone was casual, but something in him very much wanted to see Aziraphale eat three plates of crepes. He liked Aziraphale eating, why not see him eat more? Helpfully, his mind presented him with an image of Aziraphale, curled up on a couch, helpless and moaning, and Crowley's breath quickened. He was grateful for his glasses, as they hid the intensity of his gaze.

"Well…."

"Oh come off it, mate. Treat yourself! Think about it… light, sweet lemony crepes...ooey gooey, unctuous cheese crepes… creamy and rich chocolatey Nutella crepes…"

Aziraphale's mouth was watering. They all _ did _ sound amazing. And this _ was _supposed to be a last hurrah. "Oh, alright then."

The crepes arrived some minutes later. Aziraphale went for the lemon and sugar crepes first. He moaned into his first bite and Crowley bit his lip. Aziraphale swallowed and said, "It really is just like Paris. Takes me back to 1793." He lowered his voice. "You know, I really do appreciate what you did."

"In the Bastille?"

Aziraphale took another bite of the delicious lemony crepe, closing his eyes to appreciate the flavor. "Mm-hmm."

"Don't sweat it." Crowley watched the tip of Aziraphale's tongue dart across his upper lip to capture some errant sugar.

Then Aziraphale opened his eyes, and asked, like always, "Do you want a bite?"

And Crowley, like _ never_, said, "Yes."

Surprised, but more than happy to oblige, Aziraphale started to pass the plate to Crowley. "No," Crowley said, stopping him. The demon slid his glasses down his nose for a moment to reveal a flash of his yellow eyes. "Feed it to me."

So Aziraphale cut him a piece of crepe and speared it with his fork before gently lifting it across the table. Crowley, without breaking eye contact, leaned forward and closed his mouth around the fork and then slooowly slid back off it.

The crepe really was delicious, but even better was the flush he saw rise in Aziraphale's face. Crowley pushed his glasses back up his nose with a smile.

Aziraphale made short work of the rest of the lemon and sugar crepes, and subsequently the cheese crepes (which were also fantastic). But midway through the Nutella crepes, he stopped. "Oh. Oof." He put down his fork.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Well, it's just that I seem to be rather full." The waistband of his trousers was also getting uncomfortably tight, but he didn't dare undo them here in front of Crowley and everyone else in the creperie.

A fiendish little idea squirmed around and formed itself in Crowley's head and he grinned a grin that made Aziraphale a little scared and a lot excited. "How's about I feed you the rest?"

Aziraphale turned very, very red, all the way to the tips of his ears. He really, really shouldn't. He _ knew _ he shouldn't.

But he still wanted to.

He glanced up at Crowley, who cocked a mischievous eyebrow at him. _ That face. _ The rest of Aziraphale's willpower melted. He gave a very small nod.

Crowley scooted around the table and said in a low voice, "Stop me if you need to." Aziraphale gave another nod, still looking like Archangel Tomato of the Holy Hierarchy of Embarrassment.

Slowly, bite by bite, Crowley began to feed Aziraphale the rest of the chocolatey crepe. Watching Aziraphale eat was nothing compared to feeding him. Crowely could see everything, hear every noise Aziraphale made. They were sat so close Crowley was practically in Aziraphale's lap. Finally, finally, Crowley said, quiet and surprisingly tender, "Last bite, Angel. Just one more bite." And Crowley brought the final bite to Aziraphale's lips. Aziraphale chewed, chewed, swallowed, and just like that he was done.

Aziraphale had never felt so full in his life. And he had lived a _ very _ long time. He'd never-- let _ go _ like this before. He'd never _ allowed _ himself. "Well," he croaked, "we definitely didn't do _ that _ in Paris.

Crowley laughed. "No, we didn't."

Then Aziraphale hiccoughed, and there was a small ripping sound followed by a skitter. His blood ran cold. _ No. No. _ Then all his blood ran to his face. _ Nonononono nonono no. _"We need to leave right now."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

Archangel Tomato was back with a vengeance. Aziraphale's flush had faded, but impossibly now he was redder than before. "I seem to have destroyed the fastener of my trousers," he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

In an instant, they were standing back in Aziraphale's bookshop, and Aziraphale sagged into Crowley in relief. Crowley, not generally being in the business of comforting, a little uncertainly stroked Aziraphale's hair. Absentmindedly, he let his other hand accidentally brush against Aziraphale's middle, and Aziraphale flinched and jerked away from Crowley, still embarrassed about his extra pudge.

"Aziraphale, what in the ever-living fuck is going on with you today? Are you okay?"

Aziraphale, wringing his hands, looked up at Crowley and then down at the floor. "I don't-- I-- I-- I've gained weight-- I-- I could barely do up my trousers this morning and this isn't befitting behavior of an angel! I should be able to resist the temptation of self indulgence! But I didn't! You offered me a temptation and I took it! And what will the other angels say??" And then he continued, in a mousy little voice, "A-and-- I'm afraid that you won't...like me, anymore. That you won't like my body."

Crowley was flabbergasted. He slowly took off his glasses and slid them into his pocket. "Aziraphale." He took a step toward Aziraphale. "_Angel_." Another step. "_Aziraphale. _ Are you fucking thick? Of course I still fucking like you." Another step. "How many fucking restaurants have I fucking taken you to??" Step. "Did I not just fucking feed you half a fucking plate of crepes?? By hand?? (Well, with a fork, actually…) But are you having a fucking laugh??" Step. "Of course I fucking like you." Now they were up against the wall. Crowley slammed one hand flat onto the wall over Aziraphale's shoulder, grabbed Aziraphale's stomach with his other, and leaned right into Aziraphale's ear to growl, "And of course I fucking like this. _ And I think you do too_."

Aziraphale was so flustered, he could hardly do more than stammer. "C-crowley--I--" It didn't help that Crowley's grip on his stomach combined with the way he'd growled into his ear had made Aziraphale's trousers tight for a reason that had nothing to do with his waistline. All the strange excitement Aziraphale had felt that day suddenly clicked. It was like Crowley had flipped on the light switch. "I--"

"You what?" Crowley growled again, still in his ear. Then he purred, "You _ do _ like this, don't you?"

"Y-yes," stammered Aziraphale, and he gasped as Crowley tightened his grip on his stomach. Suddenly, Aziraphale found that it didn't matter to him whether this, _ any _ of this-- the crepes, Crowley, the extra pudge around his middle-- was appropriate for an angel. Suddenly, _ here _ and _ now _ and _ Crowley's hand on his stomach _ were far more important.

"That's what I thought." Aziraphale could _ feel _Crowley smirking. "Do you want me to show you how much I like you?" purred Crowley again, whuffing hot breath onto Aziraphale's neck.

Aziraphale felt the prickle of Crowley's stubble against his face. "Yes," he squeaked.

"Sorry, _ I didn't quite catch that_," said Crowley, who had absolutely heard what Aziraphale had said.

"Please?" squeaked Aziraphale even higher.

Crowley grinned devilishly. "Well, alright then." And Crowley started to kiss the side of Aziraphale's neck while sliding off Aziraphale's jacket. He undid Azariphale's bowtie, then the top button or two of Aziraphale's shirt for better access to his neck before moving on to Aziraphale's waistcoat. Unbuttoning this revealed how strained the buttons on the bottom half of his shirt were (and his missing trousers button). Crowley tutted. "Now that can't be comfortable."

Aziraphale blushed. "It's not."

Crowley's long, deft fingers were already unbuttoning Aziraphale's far-too-tight shirt, revealing red marks from where his trousers had dug into his skin. "Poor Angel," sympathized Crowley. He finished unbuttoning Aziraphale's shirt and fingered the marks idly. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I was embarrassed," murmured Aziraphale.

"Well," said Crowley, running his hands up the exposed front of Aziraphale's torso, "When we do things like this together, I want you to _tell me_ if you need something_._ I don't care if you need to whisper it in my ear, just _tell me_. Or if you don't want to tell me what's wrong, then stop me. I know we can do miracles, but you can't expect me to read your mind." Yellow eyes looked seriously into Aziraphale's blue. "Alright?

Aziraphale looked away, then back into Crowley's eyes. He nodded. "Alright."

"Now then, where were we?" Crowley grinned. "Ah yes." Crowley started kissing along the side of Aziraphale's neck again, then slowly began working his way down Aziraphale's soft, slightly hairy chest to attend first to one pink nipple with his tongue and lips, then the other. He looked up at Aziraphale's face. Aziraphale looked away again. "No. Look at me." Aziraphale did. "You are bloody beautiful, you know that? I don't ever want you to forget it. You're bloody beautiful, Angel."

Aziraphale didn't know what to say, but he could see the honesty in Crowley's eyes.

Then Crowley moved lower down and started to kiss and rub Aziraphale's swollen belly. It was round, with a layer of soft squish covering firmer parts within. "You are so. Bloody. Beautiful," reiterated Crowley, between kisses. "Does it ache?"

"A little."

"Guide me. Show me where."

Aziraphale took Crowley's hands and guided them to where the pain was, at the tightest parts of his belly, and Crowley rubbed.

Aziraphale groaned. Crowley's hands felt amazing on his sore stomach. He hadn't really realized how sore it felt until now, with Crowley relieving all the tension.

"Feel better?" Crowley asked.

"Loads," said Aziraphale dreamily.

"Good."

With that, Crowley moved further south still and started to unzip Aziraphale's trousers. "'It alright if I tease you and play with your cock?" He glanced up at Aziraphale, who still looked blissed out.

"Mmm-hmm," said Aziraphale contentedly.

Crowley let Aziraphale's trousers slide down his legs, then set about freeing Aziraphale's cock from his pants. White boxers. With little gold designs on them.

"Are those little wings and haloes on your pants? Are you literally wearing angelic underpants right now?"

"What? Yes. Don't they suit me?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You are ridiculous. Of course they suit you. Anyway…"

Crowley pulled the waistband of Aziraphale's ridiculous heavenly pants down below his cock. Deliberately trying to work Aziraphale into a frenzy, he started kissing the tops of Aziraphale's thighs, his hips, the underside of his belly, everywhere-- each time stopping nanometers away from Aziraphale's cock.

Finally, when Aziraphale couldn't take it anymore, he moaned,"Crowley--"

Crowley looked up, oh-so-innocent. "Mmm-hmmm?" he hummed in response, pressing his mouth into Aziraphale not even an inch from his cock.

"C-Crowley! Please! I--"

"You what?" Crowley deliberately articulated every syllable of his next words. "_Say it, Angel._ _Beg _me for it."

Aziraphale whimpered. "Please, Crowley, please!" His cock ached.

"Tell me how badly you want _ my mouth on your cock_," said Crowley, bringing his face so close to Aziraphale that every word sent a puff of hot breath onto his cock.

"Ah-hhh-h! Crowley! So bad! P-please! I want it so b-bad!" panted Aziraphale.

Finally, _ finally, _ Crowley took Aziraphale's cock into his hot, wet mouth, and Aziraphale's breath caught. His whole world fell away, leaving only pressure and heat and wet.

Crowley watched appreciatively as Aziraphale moaned and lolled his head back. _ So. Bloody. Beautiful. _ He redoubled his efforts, intent on working Aziraphale up into an even greater fervor. On impulse, he flicked Aziraphale's frenulum with his tongue, and when Aziraphale's hips twitched, Crowley did it again, and again, getting into the rhythm of it. Then he ran his hands up Aziraphale's pretty, soft thighs and grabbed his arse, and _ hummed. _

This sent Aziraphale over the edge. "Ahh-! C-Crowley!" he cried, desperately clutching Crowley's long hair. His hips bucked as he came, hard, into Crowley's mouth.

Crowley pulled off Aziraphale and swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk to observe the result of a job well done.

Aziraphale was sagged back against the wall, exhausted, pink-faced, and floating in post-orgasmic bliss. "Crowley," he breathed. "That. Was. Fantastic."

"Don't I know it, Angel."

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this fic idea and wrote 90% of it between watching episodes 3 and 4. Honestly im fucking shocked how well this fits canon. I literally had to change like 2 lines after watching the scene where gabriel comments on aziraphales weight and that was it
> 
> Ok but seriously tho it's SO FUCKING EASY to read this kink onto these two and it's lowkey the best thing that's happened to me in 2019


End file.
